


I'm With You

by nerdypipsqueak



Series: Fictober 2019 [30]
Category: A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia (1990), Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Seven Pillars of Wisdom - T. E. Lawrence
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fictober 2019, First Kiss, Fluff, Hospitals, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:16:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdypipsqueak/pseuds/nerdypipsqueak
Summary: Fictober prompt: I’m with you, you know that.Four short stories.1. Ali/Lawrence. Set in the "Princess and the Knight" universe. Doctor Lawrence is worried about a speech he's about to make. Ali is supportive.2. Feisal/Lawrence. Set in the "My Soul and Yours" universe. A follow-up to "Matter".3. Feisal/Lawrence. Set in the modern royalty AU nobody asked for. Feisal and Ned are relocating to England. Only the relocation doesn't go smoothly at all.4. Omar Sharif/Lawrence. A follow-up to "Sous la Lune" and "Chaud" because I can't leave these two in peace. Some plotless fluff, a little angst and a kiss.
Relationships: Ali ibn el Kharish/T. E. Lawrence, Faisal I of Iraq/T. E. Lawrence, Omar Sharif/T. E. Lawrence
Series: Fictober 2019 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504691
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Ned looks like a million dollars, striding down the New York street, head held high, a hand clasped on the strap of his leather messenger bag. He's wearing that dark blue suit Ali had bought him in Oxford, his TARDIS suit as he now likes to call it, with a Palestinian keffiyeh draped over his shoulders.

Ned looks comfortable, confident, _happy_. He'd nicked Ali's sunglasses before they'd left the hotel. He's wearing them now and Ali is seriously considering letting him have them because Ned Lawrence in his dark blue suit, crisp white shirt with no tie and the topmost button undone, with his keffiyeh on his shoulders and Ali's glasses on his nose is absolutely irresistible. 

Ali would very much like to go back to the hotel and worship every perfect inch of Ned but that's not an option right now because they've just reached their destination.

Ned comes to an abrupt halt a few feet away from the door. He cranes his neck to look at the building, to look all the way up. His hand twitches on the strap of his bag.

"Are you nervous?" Ali wraps an arm around him, squeezing lightly.

"Mhm." 

"Why, princess?"

"I feel... I'm not sure. What if the things I have to say don't matter? What if _they_ don't care?"

"They asked you here. That means they want to hear you out. They want to know what you have to say. They think it matters, they know it matters. And I'm with you, right? Every step of the way." Ali kisses Ned's temple. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Ned takes him by the hand and pulls him towards the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The water is wonderfully hot and the initial shock of it touching my cold skin is enough to take my mind off the pain in my ribs. I lean back so that I can rest my head and arms on the edges of the tub.

"You look content." Feisal appears in the doorway, cigarette in one hand, ashtray in the other. He's wearing a bisht over his European clothes, it gives him the air of a Victorian explorer. 

"I am content." I say and for the first time in years it's true.

"Good." He smiles and turns to leave.

"Don't go!"

"Would you like me to stay here with you?"

"Please."

Feisal finishes his cigarette, places the ashtray on the windowsill, then sits on the floor next to the tub.

"Oh my, you are so beautiful." He runs his fingers along my arm, stroking from wrist to elbow and back again. "Just as beautiful as I remembered."

"I'm not beautiful. I'm old and fat..."

"You're not fat!" Feisal protests. "And you're not old either. You're not even forty yet."

"No but I feel eighty."

"Sweetheart!" He shakes his head reproachfully. I love it when he calls me sweetheart, I love the way it sounds on his lips, in his warm, deep voice (oh, I could drown in the sound of his voice), in that accent of his, with a slight roll to the "R". That "R" has a way of getting under my skin and tickling my spine, making me want, want, want... It makes me want to be close to him, to be kissed and held, not always sexually but in a gentle, loving way.

"I always wondered if two people could be intimate in a bathtub." The words just slip out of my mouth. I remember a day in Cairo, many years ago, after I'd taken Akaba and crossed Sinai. I was having my first bath in two months, lying in the tub, measuring its length with my own body, wondering about the possibilities.

"Oh yes, they could." Feisal rises to take a better look at the tub. "Maybe not in this one, it's quite narrow so I won't be able to put you on my lap. But if you let me sit behind you then I can hold you. Would you like that?"

"Yes." I sit up and pull myself forward to accommodate him. I can hear him undressing, the rustle of clothes behind me, if I were younger, less... damaged I would have watched. I used to love watching him bare himself for me. But now I feel awfully self-conscious. I'm weak and white and soft and he's anything but. He's tall, slender, athletic, he's built like a god. 

"Why do you still love me?" I rest my cheek on my knees, now drawn up to my chest. I can just see him in my peripheral now, climbing into the tub. "After what happened in Tafas, Deraa, Damascus, Paris..."

"None of that was your fault." His fingers ghost over the scars on my back. "My people's fate was decided before the revolt even started. You did all you could."

"I could have done more."

"You did everything that was humanly possible." He presses his lips to my shoulder-blade, to the topmost end of one of my scars, then slowly follows its line across my back. There's nothing erotic or filthy about this, this is pure tenderness, affection, _love_, and it makes my heart tremble and my eyes swim.

"Oh sweetheart." He murmurs against my skin. "Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry." I quickly wipe my eyes on the heel of my hand. "I still can't believe I have you again."

"You always had me." Feisal pulls me backwards until I'm lying against his chest, secure in his arms. "Even when we were apart. But I'm here now, I'm with you and I'm never letting you go."


	3. Chapter 3

"Your highness!" Ned looks up at me, perplexed. "Why... what are you doing here?"

"Don't your highness me!" I burst out. 

"But we're in public..."

"I don't care where we are! I told you, didn't I? We'll take my private plane, it'll be easier, quicker and cheaper than you going on your own, then me catching up with you, collecting you and your stuff and so on. But no! You just had to do it your way!"

"I didn't want to inconvenience you."

"Inconvenience me?! For God's sake, Ned!"

It had all started a week ago when Ned lost his job at the embassy. Technically he didn't lose it, he'd handed in his notice, effective immediately. But he hadn't done it willingly, his boss had become aware of Ned's relationship with me and gave him an ultimatum: leave or else...

So Ned handed in his notice and I knew straight away what this meant for us.

I have a house in London, I also have other properties in other countries, along with shares in various enterprises, I'm not going to die if my family disown me. But if I were to lose Ned... There's no way I could survive that.

I'd suggested that we ship Ned's things to my house, then take my private plane to England. Of course, Ned wasn't having it. It took a lot of coaxing (and some bribery) to get him to let me handle the shipping but he drew the line at taking my plane and insisted on making his own way to England. I thought it was crazy and a waste of his hard-earned money. 

And then I almost had a cardiac arrest.

Ned had to switch flights in Rome. Apparently there'd been either a pilot error or a control tower error and his plane came crashing down onto the runway. 

So here we are, in an Italian hospital, Ned dressed in one of those ridiculous gowns, with his arm in a sling and stitches on his brow.

He looks at me, those gorgeous blue eyes full of concern, and I feel my heart melting.

"I'm sorry, habibi, I shouldn't have yelled at you." I sit on the bed and try to hug him. 

He gasps. "Ribs!"

"What's wrong?" Instantly I retreat.

"Broken ribs, a broken collarbone and a cut to my forehead."

"Oh God, Ned!" I feel like crying. The pain he's in must be unbearable and it breaks my heart.

"It's alright, love." Carefully, Ned lifts his good hand to stroke my cheek. I bend to meet him, taking the hand in my own, kissing the warm palm.

"It's not, you could have died." I whisper.

"But I didn't die. I'm here, I'm here with you. I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You've got broken bones."

Ned rolls his eyes. I kiss his hand over and over again until he finally smiles.

"I'm glad you're here." He says softly. "I don't like hospitals."

"I'm not leaving your side." I vow.

"When you said you had a house in London I was not expecting Kensington." Ned looks at me incredulously.

"What were you expecting? Downton Abbey?" I tease.

"No, a Bedouin tent in the middle of Wimbledon." Ned quips and starts fiddling with the strap of his sling, trying to adjust it one-handed. He groans painfully a few times but doesn't ask for help.

"Let me." I cover his working hand with mine, effectively stopping him. He pauses and I expect to be hit with his usual "I'm not an invalid" remark but instead he lets go of the strap and moves his hand out of the way. 

"Feisal." He murmurs.

"Yes, habibi?"

"This is really happening, isn't it?"

"It is." I cup his face in my hands and kiss him soundly.

It is.


	4. Chapter 4

I wake to the sound of birdsong. It's wonderfully refreshing after all the time I've spent in cities, in hotels.

Beside me Ned stirs, groans and rolls onto his side, still fast asleep. He looks so content and young, all curled up in his sleeping bag. I give in to temptation and kiss his forehead gently, careful not to wake him. He stirs again, purrs softly but doesn't open his eyes.

I restoke the fire, then head upstairs to that little room lined with aluminium where Ned keeps his food. There's not much to choose from: a loaf of bread, some cheese, some butter, a few leftover oranges and apples, a couple of tins. The cheese looks like it's about to grow legs and start its own country and the tins look equally unappealing so I round up all the fruit. Combine that with a nice cup of tea _et voila_. Breakfast of champions.

"You're here." Ned's sitting up on the bed, already fully dressed.

"Of course I am. Where else would I be?"

"I don't know, the future?" He plucks an apple out of my hand and bites into it, the action somehow prim and savage at the same time. A little bit of juice dribbles down his chin, he wipes it off with his thumb. "I apologise, I'm being an absolute heathen."

"No, no, you're absolutely charming." I smile. He shakes his head at me and carries on eating.

"You've know I've never kissed anybody in my life?"

"Really?" I put my book down. "How so?"

"I'm not sure. You see, I was never fully comfortable with who I am, with the body I was born with. I was told that my desires are wrong, that _all desires_ are wrong, that I cannot want the things I want. That _I_ am wrong. With time I learned to ignore my body, to despise it even."

"Would you like to try?"

"Excuse me?"

"Close your eyes." I sit directly in front of him. "Go on. I won't hurt you."

Ned exhales slowly and closes his eyes. His hands twitch nervously on the bedspread. He quickly clasps them on his lap.

I move closer, till our crossed legs are touching. His breath catches.

"It's alright." I murmur, stroking his cheek. "I'm with you, I won't hurt you."

I lean forward and press my lips to his. It's just a few seconds, no movement, not even a sound. But when I pull away he chases me. It's adorably innocent.

I let him capture me and when he does I respond, my lips sliding smoothly against his. He tilts his head slightly, as if surrendering. I cup the back of his head very, very gently, with hardly any pressure, not holding him in place, just... holding him.

He moans, a soft little sound in the back of his throat and I take that to be an invitation. I let my tongue graze his lips. He withdraws with a surprised gasp.

"I'm sorry." I whisper. "Was that too quick for you?"

He rubs the side of his nose against mine, hesitates, rubs my nose again.

And then his lips are on mine.

Soft, wetter than before, tentatively trying to copy my movements. This is the sweetest thing I've ever experienced.

The second time I allow my tongue to caress his lips he opens up, not too wide, just enough to let me in. He tastes divine, like tea and the fruit we'd been eating throughout the day and he surrenders to me so, _so sweetly_.

"I've just kissed the man I love." Ned murmurs, awestruck. "I can die happy now."


End file.
